St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-12-25

PROF. POTT.
fruitless rounds again, there suddenly
emerged from near groggery a smart,
military perSon-the city
misunderstanding a huge cane, who
shouted, "WhoO!-what's all this?
Tramps, eh? Git out O. here. Lively
now!-I say-Gitp
The law is mighty and it prevailed:
POtt and Joe were hustled out OF the
town with rush, sages of the place APP
plauding the urchinS who stoned them
as they went.
To have seen Pott casting scared
glanceS in upon happy cottage homes as
he sped by; to have heard the great cry
of his heart for just Que human SOULS
kindly greeting and succOr as he
fastened out into the night; and to have
caught a glimpse of the terrOr-stricken
Joe. as, with his masters hat still In his
teeth, he skulked along, cycling him
askance in first falling confidence and
doubt, would have filled you with pity.
Pott gained the bridge, where in
moments halt he placed the violin
within its battered case; saw the re-
fiected stars look up in his face from the
dark waters of the millrace, and Won
dered if it would not be restful there.
Then he caught timid glimpse of the
lights of the town, and heard, he fancied
in his desperate fright, the sounds of
vehicles and voices as if in pursuit.
And then. with a pitiful call to Joe, he
dashed along the old Abercrombie road
with a daZed, underlined but all-power-
ful impulse to reach that something, or
somewhere, which would at least assure
safety.
On, on. he sped. the fancied pursuers
gaining. Startled stragglers from the
outlying farms took to their heels as he
swept by, like some rueSOme wrath of
the night. Needless in his flight of all
but safety, at the forks of the road the
fleeing musician turned, bounded into
the underbruSh, stumbled blindly, and
fell headlong among the dead leaves
wagons, filled only with registering
farm hands, ratified harmleSsly by.
Then poor, simple Pott, lying there
among the leaves, burst into tears, and
faithful Joe, true and helpful to the
last, crept up beside him, pushed his
face against his masters kissed it in his
dog fashion, and Whined to comfort
him.
After little time the professor petted
the brute, but could only say: Joe!
Joe! you miserable, loving dog! we're
in bard, hard luck! eh, JOe?" And Joe
could not deny it.
From Just oyer the little knoll where
they were lying came the whipping
sounds of running water, and the two
were shortly refreshing themselves at
the little stream which the professor
found struggled across an unused road
that wound to the summit of hill be-
yOnd. He beat the dust from his cloth
l. l~oF of fhn
water, laved his hot face and bathed his
blistered feet. while Joe fairly reyeled
in the stream, drying himself, with
much snorting and hustling, among the
fallen leaves.
Suddenly Joe bristled up, listened a
moment and snapped out quick, sharp
grOwl of alarm. The professor quieted
him, looked for moment timOrOuSly
away through the night to the far lights
of the distant town, and, with sigh of
Encouragement, said to his brute COM
panion:
"God only knows where to, Joe! but
come alOngP'
Joe seemed to insist that somebody or
something requiring looking after was
near them; but they crossed the little
stream, followed the road up the hill,
and were presently confronted by an
old rail gate standing half open. Here
Pott looked in vain for some sign of
only the dark face of deep woods, and,
above them, the yellow horn of all au-
tumn moon.
He sank drearily upon fallen log be-
side the gate, only succeeding in bring
ing Joe to his side by a sharp word of
commandment then leaned against the
fence, giving up to the direst forebod-
ings, succeeded by the quick stupor of
utter exhaustion. The violin had been
taken from its case that the strings
might be loosened, and it lay on his
knee as he slept.
Was he dreaming? There came to
him in reality, or dream, the voice of a
maiden in song:
"Days will pass with long hours dreary;
Nights all sleepless, starless grow
The violin fairly flew to the profess
sOr'S shoulder; the bow, posing alOft,
trembled in his hand; his head reached
far out and sidewise as if his whole be-
ing thrilled in anticipation; while JOe's
tail beat lively tattoo upon the log
"And thy Nawken lover, dearie,
All the pain of waiting know:
Waiting, longing, with their Woe"
Oh, how that violin kept accom-
panimentl If ever, Pott was now in
Spired, and for the once became Pag
amin. The violin led, rather than fol
lowed. The last line was given in a
weird, sad minor. When his last note
was hushed, the songstresss, who was
certainly nearing the musician, seemed
to listen and wait. as if to tease and test
the performer. He promptly repeated
the melody of the last three lines, Civ
ing it the richest and sweetest of color
ing. Then, and but few rods distant,
as if in spirit of wanton witchery. the
maiden thrice began
Darling, by"
while Pott, gallant and true, each time
instantly caught and voiced the music.
and then as deferentially waited when
it ceased.
With burst of such melody as POtt
thought he had never heard equaled,
the StanZa was finished:
Darling, by our troth plight given,
Precious, by the hope of heaven,
oh, be as true as | to theei
Save the sweetest kiss for mer'
and the professor followed at the con-
clusion with an improviSed refrain,
which filled and flooded the Minnesota
autumn evening with rarer music than
it had ever before known.
Potts head laid so near to the loved
instrument. and he closed the improve
satlon with such flourish, that he was
startled when he looked up and diScOy-